


A Soft Prelude to Atonement

by Starb_uck



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Cylons, Dark, F/F, Imprisonment, Prisoner of War, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:38:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6325714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starb_uck/pseuds/Starb_uck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A closer look at how the events of my work "Penance" unfolded. How Starbuck ends up a prisoner in the Cylon sensory cage in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Soft Prelude to Atonement

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Penance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6250210) by [Starb_uck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starb_uck/pseuds/Starb_uck). 



> Because I just couldn't resist.

"Are you hurt?" 

The captured pilot barely registered the words. She was shaking so badly with fear and trying so hard to hide it. She managed to stammer out the standard protocol, words that had been drummed into them since the first days of Basic Flight. If you're ever captured, give the enemy nothing but your name, rank and callsign. 

"Lieutenant Kara Thrace, callsign 'Starbuck..'"

***

The last thing she remembered was a violent blow to her ship, sending it slamming off in a completely different direction. She'd been thrown violently against the side of the cockpit, she supposed, now, hard enough to stun her temporarily, despite the helmet. She came groggily back to her senses as her damaged Viper was being towed into an unfamiliar hangar bay. Wait.. She could see Centurions.. And skinjobs, milling around down below. Waiting for her.. 

Oh no.. Not this.. Anything but this.. She gasped in panic, reached desperately for her sidearm. She didn't want to die, not at all, but if she had to she was going to take at least a few of these bastards with her before they took her down.. She fumbled frantically with the weapon. In her panicked state, she wasn't thinking clearly. Didn't see that if they'd wanted her dead, they'd have blasted her ship to frak with her still inside, instead of bringing it on board. Didn't realise the implications of this until it was too late. 

The canopy was opened. A Centurion looked in at her. She raised the pistol and blasted it from point blank range. 

"Die, you frakker!!" she hissed through gritted teeth, pulling the trigger again and again. 

The toaster seemed unaffected by the bullets. It reached in for her, seized the arm holding the weapon. She screamed as she felt the inhuman strength of it. It squeezed, and the pistol dropped from her suddenly nerveless hand. Too late, she realised that she should have kept back one bullet for herself. She didn't know if she'd have had the guts to go through with it, or if her will to survive would have been too strong, but the question was irrelevant now. The Centurion pulled her easily from the cockpit.

D'Anna watched as the wriggling form was deposited unceremoniously onto the floor of the hangar deck. It jerked as its knees hit the floor, and she heard a muffled cry through the helmet. She supposed dispassionately that that must have hurt it. Its gloved hands grappled uselessly with the metal limbs that held it. They pulled its arms tightly up behind it, forcing it to bend forward on its knees and causing another of those muffled cries. They held it by the back of the neck, holding its head forward and down, bowed in a supplicant position. They held it there until its struggles ceased, and it simply knelt in the unbreakable grip, waiting for what came next. Only then did she step forward to unsnap and remove the pilot's helmet. 

***

"I know who you are", the honey blonde Cylon interrupted her impatiently. "I want to know if you're injured, if you require medical attention?"

Stunned by the question, and still held firmly with her head pointed at the floor, Starbuck thought about it. She didn't think she was badly injured at all. Her wrists and neck ached where the Centurions had grabbed her and held her down, and her knees hurt from the roughness with which she'd been slammed down on the hangar deck floor. Her head still ached like a mad bastard, but other than that she was relatively unharmed. 

"Uhhh, no. No I don't. I'm... I'm a prisoner of war.." Gods, it hurt to say those words.. She tried desperately to keep her voice level, not to betray the sheer panic that was threatening to erupt.

"Will you please inform my ship of my status? There may be something we have that you want. It might be possible to come to some kind of.. agreement?"

She was trying hard, D'Anna had to admit. And holding up well, although the Cylon could tell that she was terrified. Nice to see that that stupid military protocol for captured pilots hadn't lasted long, either. That would have been one hell of a boring and fruitless conversation. This was better. Communication was always the key to creating better understanding between two warring factions. She cocked her head enquiringly at her prisoner, gestured to the guards to ease up ever so slightly on their harsh grip. Able at last to raise its head and meet her eyes, the human gave a small sigh of relief which D'Anna chose to interpret as gratitude. 

"So let me see if I have this right, Starbuck. You're suggesting that I contact your Commander Adama and inform him that I have captured you, and that you are now my legitimate prisoner of war. Yes?" 

The pilot nodded, still held upright on its knees. 

"Good. And then following this declaration, we begin to discuss a mutual swap, something for each side to give to the enemy that we wouldn't mind losing, not as long as we got the thing we wanted in return. In Adama's case, you. Am I correct so far?"

Starbuck nodded again. Her eyes never left D'Anna's face. The woman sounded so damn reasonable. Could it really be this easy? Could a bargain really be reached? She knew she'd be able to sit in a holding cell for however long it took to thrash out the finer details. It'd be boring, but she knew she could do it. Hell, Sharon had done it for months, was still doing it! And that thought gave Starbuck a horrible, traitorous idea. 

D'Anna continued to observe her prisoner. This conversation had already gone on far longer than she had intended. The human ought to have been naked and chained in a cell by now. Why wasn't she? The Three could only assume that her temporary mercy stemmed from the fact that this was the most deliciously stimulating, erotic conversation that she'd had in months. Watching the human try to bargain with her, try to weasel its nasty way out of the situation it had landed itself in, seeing the growing hope on its features that she, Three, might go along with its ridiculous plan.. All of it was just delicious, and she felt a thrill of power that rose in conjunction with the achingly strong clench of excitement and arousal deep within her. 

Still, much as she liked watching it babble, she looked forward even more to the moment when she crushed its wild plans and hopes, the moment when it realised there would be no prisoner swap, that it wouldn't be going back to Galactica, not now, not ever. She opened her mouth to deliver the news, when the human interrupted her, speaking quickly. 

"Look, what about Sharon? Her for me? That works, doesn't it?" Starbuck looked pleadingly at the Cylon, who rubbed her chin thoughtfully. 

"Sharon. The Eight you brought back from Caprica. The Eight who saved your life?" The human had the decency to look a bit abashed, especially as D'Anna continued. 

"And as I understand it, she's on Galactica of her own free will. She's defected to the humans. She doesn't want to come back to us, to where she belongs. So therefore, what you're actually proposing, Starbuck, is that she take your place here. Take your place, and your... punishment. Not very noble of you, is it, dear?"

The pilot's head dropped. "I thought.. I thought she might know things you wouldn't want us finding out about.." she mumbled, looking at the floor. "I thought you'd be glad to get her back, because of that. And.. well, she's a Cylon. She belongs here. I.." here she choked back a sob, "I don't".

D'Anna smiled gently down at the bowed blonde head. 

"Look at me, Starbuck", she said quietly. She placed one finger beneath her chin to help her obey. When the pilot met her eyes, the Cylon could see a host of unshed tears waiting to fall. 

"I would like that Eight back on this ship". Her voice was soft, silky. She stroked Starbuck's chin with her thumb. "You're absolutely right about that, Lieutenant. There are a lot of things I'd like to discuss with her about loyalty, and obedience, and about betraying the one true God.." 

She stopped, smiled. She moved to trace the line of Starbuck's lips, parting them gently and slipping her thumb just inside. The human's breath hitched and she jerked slightly at the contact.

"Unfortunately for you, I want *you more. You're going to prove very valuable to me, to us, in the fullness of time. Very valuable indeed. You're going to fulfil your destiny, Kara Thrace".

The Cylon smiled as the human's eyes widened in horror and understanding. She released its face with a last affectionate stroke to its chin, and turned away. 

"Take it to the sensory cells on the lower deck". She spoke the order without turning, already striding towards the open door, heels making a sharp sound on the steel floor. "I want it naked and secured but otherwise unharmed. I will meet you there". 

As she passed through the door she heard the human's voice, rising after her in a strident scream..

"You can't *do this to me! For gods sake, let me go!! No.. No.." 

Sounds of struggling, then a scream, no words this time, just a harsh noise of horror and fear and hate. It followed D'Anna all the way along the corridor, ringing deliciously in her ears as she thought about things yet to come.


End file.
